


from a mirrored perspective

by madameandromeda



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, F/F, Metaphoric Narrative, Yes I truly love writing Character Study for Eve Polastri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-07-18 04:33:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16110881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madameandromeda/pseuds/madameandromeda
Summary: They say that breaking a mirror gives you seven years of bad luck.Eve could accumulate a lifetime of bad omen by how many mirrors she had broken.





	from a mirrored perspective

Reflections held us accountable for the reality we carry around. Mirrors alone can only reveal the exterior, the flesh, the oblivious. It's our minds that bring twisted distortions or uplifting proclamations to them. We give them power to expand our limited understanding of our images.

To be reflected, when one feels uncomfortable in their own skin is a terrifying act.

Her shell of body was bearing so much weight that moving beyond her comfort zone seems a risky endeavor.

But Eve looks forward to be uncomfortable. Taking risks meant to expand her reality, away from normality.

And because she needed to defy herself to see the effect she had over the looking-glass. She began to anticipate the vision of her twistedness exposed, her tendencies released, her mind finally perceived as the studies she applied to all the murderous women she had ever been fascinated with in the past.

The chamber she had entered greeted her presence with cold salutation; complete silence incorporated around the gelid walls, but that quietude was soon broken by the loudness of her steps.

Blood drops coming from her stomach wound collided on the porcelain floor, contrasting with the polished alabaster of the environment; each transition of movement was opening up more of her skin. However, she offered solely attention to the mirrors in front of her.

At the room’s center, there were five mirrors in the direction of a growing straight line, with their separations well established by the support of various blocks of marble that were raising each of them in sections, giving the most distant mirrors a chance for observation through their higher location.

The mirror closer to her front revealed so little, although being so near.

It reflected solely her exterior appearance. Curls wild cascaded down, framing her brushed long heart face.

Grey raincoat torn apart in several pieces. Fiery yet tiresome chestnut eyes driving its focus towards her stomach injured, red over white contrast again exposed for her white button shirt covered in thick blood.

Her vision adjusted to glance at the second mirror, where its spot gave more deep into her current façade. The slightly elevated placement of this mirror in comparison to the last one managed to capture the ashes nestled in her boots, staining also much of her social pants. An avid representation of how she had just got out of a fire that been wiped out not very long ago.

Her previous steps resulted in a trail of blood behind her, and a red puddle was defining her silhouette since she stopped moving.

Until then, what Eve was able to capture were fragments of her facet. Blood and ashes, a portrait of destruction that for some reason she liked to witness within herself.

_"It suits you."_

That mesmerizing voice had come to speculate appreciation for her mess of state. Loaded with echoes of alluring reaffirmations, Villanelle represented something greater than brutal and seductive madness. Her presence, in the way Eve had experienced, felt more like a calculated softness merged with harsh realness.

What they shared together exposed layers of their unexplored facets. Wicked, inexplicable desire moved them across the globe all for a simple grasp of each other’s reality.

And as rage awakens her heavy heart for revisiting some of the events that had taken her to that place, right there, in the third mirror, her image seemed unfocused.

For she had identified fierceness.

Incandescent savagery, blurred for precise optic perceptions for the limitation of reasonable distance.

Eve wanted to explore how she recognized herself through one mirror at a time, without moving from her position. To examine the impact felt by her with every angle she could capture.

In the past, cracks in glasses served her as a source of contemplation. Temptation instigated the tip of her fingers for the proposal of irreversible destruction. For the indomitable act of violence conducted in finally hitting a target that would never recover from an impact.

That's why impact was vital to the knowledge she ached to possess.

She was enraged. Not because of the impact Villanelle had over her, but because of how she had reacted to it. How she allowed it. And how she still wanted it. Vividly, she recalled of the late hours she had spent awaked looking at pictures of violent murders.

What drew her to delve in the concept of her intrigue for those murderous deeds was power. Power that women who were assassins fought to obtain. A disruption in the patterns of submission and expectations that had been laid upon them so far. Except it wasn’t for a noble cause, it was simply fatality. And Villanelle was exactly like that.

Like Eve craved to be, at some point.

When violence reached its peak, growing heat burst out of her chest in the format of wild flames. And it was so fitting that this feeling led her to burn a building full of assassins who sought to exterminate her to preserve her recent discovers of the identities behind the Twelve.

She escaped with wounds caused from a quick fight that would be more disastrous if she didn't reacted fast enough to run and permit her sense of chaos took over.

The fourth mirror presented a contrast in comparison to the other ones. How turbid her image appeared, so distant and even small. Her shape was still visible, but without the details, the ruins and the colors, the feel of everything inside and outside of her seemed almost redundant.

However, simplicity didn't hold a connection with her anymore, even while it had been a concept integral for her past experiences. Days full of monotony, of daily routines. Karaoke nights, dinners with friends and colleagues. Misty memories between heavy weights of meeting expectations, for the sake of normality.

Resulting in the memory that the most genuine place where she experienced peace, in a way that actually filled her chest with remarkable softness was beside Oksana in a wide forest.

There, at the edge of nightfall, fresh breeze even more prominent in the midst of the prosperous fauna. Large deep green trees being highlighted in the soft light of a crescent moon.

 _"Come try to get me again."_ her voice, a predatory symphony, announced this playful challenge _._

And Eve gave in to it with surprisingly heated enthusiasm. Chasing Oksana in fast speed, trying not to lose herself within the wood, but allowing her instinct to merge along with the atmosphere around her as guidance the path she was being conducted.

Running like this gave such freedom to her, to the point she had the opportunity to redirect her steps to set a trap. Separating her route from Oksana's, Eve escaped the treetops and reached a small lake, a space where she found clarity enough to notice a sideway for her to rush towards.

Then finally reaching the other woman by her front, immediately taking her by her left arm and knocking her down on the rough earth, with Eve resting at the top.

Oksana looked wild. Her body showed no resistance to being overthrown, but her eyes radiating fascination.

 _“You cheated!”_ she proclaimed aloud with a satisfied smile contradicting her accusatory tone.

Eve didn’t get a chance to react from this, since her position at the top lasted only a few seconds. Soon her back hit the ground, with shivers spreading insides by the warm approximation of Oksana against her.

A fiery kiss seemed so appropriate for this occasion. Touches ensured a communication much more versatile for the meaning behind their bond.

And Eve also ached for the silence.

The silence between their interactions was strangely reassuring now. A period later, they moved to rest in front of the lake, letting the dawn reach its peak and the darkness to be a shelter liberator of their authentic selves. In the water, Eve saw her reflection with a different mindset.

Any wave of movement could transfigure her image, this fluidity was actually a format that allowed a much wider expansion of who she really were, offering more than the solidity that could be found in the mirrors could ever providence.

To gaze into the fifth mirror, she put the perspectives she could got from her past experiences altogether to a test. But instead of reserving her focus for this mirroring alone, she also turned to the previous mirrors, those that remained capturing her entire complexities.

Vibrant focus invoked brutal analysis. It was like every extension of herself was being displayed in front of her view. Still, she appeared disconnected from all these images. And the way she most wanted to connect was through eruptions.

Then, after removing a gun from her coat, her trembling aim moved to the fifth mirror and the only bullet in there had been fired, only to not hit the target.

Frustration was fully expressed when she came to throw the weapon against the aimed mirror, breaking and knocking it off its pedestal.

For the fourth mirror, she removed one of her boots to strike it in a sharp blow; the echo caused by this demolition resounded around the environment for a little longer than the last.

In the third mirror, she had shattered it with her last pair of boots; a small portion of satisfaction was already building in her insides. As if each shrapnel represented a way to break free from any repressions and conflicts.  
  
The last two remaining mirrors made her move a little beyond where she had stood so far. Eve positioned herself as close as she could in front of the second mirror, her fist clenched and the sensation of her thudding almost bursting into her ears.

The expected collision had been explosive, the wreckage of the mirror aligned with the blood of the cuts on the back of her fingers, but that didn’t restrict her from using the same wounded hand to eliminate the first mirror in a similar proximity and intensity, almost in a deadly sequence.

Broken and disconnected fragments filled the floor. And along with them, a peculiar freedom was achieved.

Nothing solid rested to reflect her diffuse layers. No barrier to allow the predetermined circulation of earlier concepts of her identity. Only fluency of expression remained, even at the cost of destruction.

“It appears like you are always having parties without me.” The humorous comment coming from the entrance of the chamber snatched laughter out of her.

After adjusting to get a glimpse of the assassin leaning against the door’s edge, she noticed messy golden hair distributed in waves, face wounded and two guns in both of her hands. Her laid back posture didn’t indicate any discomfort for her bruises.

Eve thought she looked hellish beautiful, and she felt beautiful as well for the way Villanelle stared at her, at that moment. Hypnotized and palpable impacted, as if she was astonished by her current sight.

Conclusions didn’t yet came to crash over her, still, Eve found again unexpected peace for all her complexes while being reflected through those attentive amber eyes that saw her in fascinated filters, which gave her a pleasing process for her own vision.

Recognizing herself there, through actions and decisions that led her so far, instead of broken mirrors, fluid water and the fragments in between felt like an honest morbid blessing, rather than bad luck labeled in superstitions.

**Author's Note:**

> Somehow inspired by Smoke & Mirrors by Agnes Obel.


End file.
